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XXVIII. The Prince Comes Back to the Enchanted Palace
”Theyflewtothewindow.Mr.Irvinghadnointentionofgoingaway.HeandMissLavendarwerestrollingslowlydownthemiddlepathtothestonebench.
“Oh,MissShirley,ma’am,he’sgothisarmaroundherwaist,”whisperedCharlottatheFourthdelightedly.“Hemusthaveproposedtoherorshe’dneverallowit.”
AnnecaughtCharlottatheFourthbyherownplumpwaistanddancedheraroundthekitchenuntiltheywerebothoutofbreath.
“Oh,Charlotta,”shecriedgaily,“I’mneitheraprophetessnorthedaughterofaprophetessbutI’mgoingtomakeaprediction.There’llbeaweddinginthisoldstonehousebeforethemapleleavesarered.Doyouwantthattranslatedintoprose,Charlotta?”
“No,Icanunderstandthat,”saidCharlotta.“Aweddingain’tpoetry.Why,MissShirley,ma’am,you’recrying!Whatfor?”
“Oh,becauseit’sallsobeautiful...andstorybookish...andromantic...andsad,”saidAnne,winkingthetearsoutofhereyes.“It’sallperfectlylovely...butthere’salittlesadnessmixedupinittoo,somehow.”
“Oh,ofcoursethere’sareskinmarryinganybody,”concededCharlottatheFourth,“but,whenall’ssaidanddone,MissShirley,ma’am,there’smanyaworsethingthanahusband.”
